


To Light Thee on Thy Way

by Fire_Sign



Series: The World War II Tales [2]
Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, MFMM Year of Quotes, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-06-29 09:03:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15726240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fire_Sign/pseuds/Fire_Sign
Summary: Girl, don't tell me that it's morningCan we keep the curtains drawnI haven't given you fair warningBut our ship, she sails at dawnA brief encounter, a stolen moment, and way too many feelings inspired by Eastern Canadian Folk Rock.





	To Light Thee on Thy Way

**Author's Note:**

> Right, so this requires a large number of explanations:
> 
> (1) This is a followup to [One Night in Berlin](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11694018), a fic where Jack and Phryne are in Europe during World War 2. The historical accuracy of these fics are in negative amounts.  
> (2) I am counting this as an August quote fic, from the line "Bite me." The logical accuracy of this use is ALSO in negative amounts.  
> (3) This fic is all Aurora_australis's fault, on multiple fronts. I just HAPPENED to mention that Great Big Sea's [Boston and St. John's](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n5UoU6clpVk) was giving me Phrack Feels for some random reason--and it is a gorgeous song, if nothing else--and we were discussing how well it fit them. Then she went and suggested it get set in the same AU as One Night in Berlin and I _neeeeeeeeded_ this story. And then she had to, sharing my love for random Eastern Canadian folk rock bands, mention she was opening [a collection for GBS inspired fics](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/MFMMGBSCollection). SO HERE FOR THIS PLAN  
>  (4) Title and the Phrack exchange later in this fic are from Act 3, Scene 5 of _Romeo and Juliet_.  
>  (5) At this rate, the notes will be longer than the blasted fic.

The door was kicked shut, neither one of them willing to relinquish a hand to close it silently.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he said, one hand up her skirt while the other fumbled for buttons on the unfamiliar dress.

“No,” she replied, gesturing towards the dress fastenings and rolling her neck back for him to pepper kisses against. “But it’s been months, Jack.”

The last button ripped off the dress--he’d have to sew it back before they left, but as the damned thing had fallen to the floor he really wasn’t worried about that at the moment.

“My orders were very clear,” he growled, “exchange the bag and get out.”

“I didn’t know it was you either,” she protested, rucking his shirt from his trousers and scraping her nails against his back. “But nobody expects me back before morning.”

They were naked before they reached the narrow bed of the one room flat, both of them desperate to fit months of loving in a single night through the sheer force of their touches--teeth and nails and fingers dug into flesh so hard it would bruise in the aftermath. She bit his shoulder and he groaned.

“Beneath the clothes, love,” he murmured, spinning them around so she was under him as they hit the mattress. She laughed as they did and he shushed her, smiling as he did so. 

“Missed you,” she said, gripping his arse and encouraging him closer; they both gasped as he thrust inside, stifling laughter against the other’s shoulder.

Their coupling was fast and inelegant and  _ wonderful _ ; she held him close in the aftermath, willing his weight atop her to remain forever but knowing they would both be gone all too soon.

 

*

 

They hadn’t slept; touches had softened as they’d talked, neither one ready to sacrifice a moment for sleep. They talked of home, what little they could of war, of how very much they had missed each other.  Found new scars amongst the old, and vainly hoped these would be the last. Eventually the first tendrils of grey light slipped through the window, followed by the stirrings of the city.

“It was the nightingale, not the lark,” she murmured in protest when he made to move.

“I believe it was a motorcar, actually,” he replied, pressing a kiss against her hair and stroking fingers down her arm. One eye peeked open.

“Headed to Mantua?”  

“Something like that.”

“We could stay here instead.”

He tucked her hair behind her ear, smiling. Neither of them would be happy, not when so much was at stake; they were restless souls, in their own ways, duty-bound and wanderers both. But in the quiet, for a moment, it was a dream worth having.

“Phryne…”

“I know. I wouldn’t love you half so much if I didn’t.”

She reached out to trace the bite mark on his shoulder. He would carry it for a few days, perhaps a week, but it would be gone before she saw him again. 

“I’ll see you soon,” he promised, reading her thoughts in her eyes.

“You can’t know that.”

“No, but I believe it. The war can’t last forever. And until then…”

She kissed him, pressing her forehead against his as it ended. Until then, they would find what time they could. It would have to be enough.


End file.
